Skip to main content

Wes locked my keys in the car.

We arrived in College Station, Friday evening. On Saturday afternoon, Wes was outside playing with a friend. He came running into the house with this wild, yet fascinating story about a stick, my car and seeing the keys on the passenger seat. It was quite the report. I couldn’t follow much of it but I assumed he was just being melodramatic. This is common. Still though, having a long history with this child of mine, I decided it would be best to check out just what type of shenanigan was really going on. 

I went outside. There was my car. There were all 4 doors, locked. And there were my keys…staring at me from the passenger seat. 

Great. Somehow my kid had gotten into the car with the keys, had manually locked all the doors with my keys inside. Really. I didn’t even think this was possible with my specific keys. IT WAS possible and Wes had done it flawlessly. 

I came back inside to fill my mom in. Being the great mom she is, she went to work. She posted Wesley’s escapade on Facebook and asked if anyone could help. This saint of a person, Brandon Sweeney, who is friends with my parents, sent a Toyota guy over to break in to my car. He used these really cool tools, (which I’ve decided I really must have a set on hand because I’m sure this will not be the last time I have to break into something because of Wes) to break into my car that afternoon.


 It took him about 10 minutes. With the initial breaking in of the car, the car alarm went off. No big deal. He simply shut the door and it quit. Whew! Thank you sir! 

At this point, I figured we were home free. I thanked him profusely and he left.
I went back to the car and opened the door again, the very loud alarm began going off again. No big deal. All I need to do is start the car. I hopped in and put the keys into the ignition. The car wouldn't turn on. BEEEEEEEEEEP. All the lights on the dash board just starting blinking violently at me. BEEEEEEEEEEP. I turned the key in the ignition again and it still wouldn’t start. BEEEEEEEEEEP. Over and over the alarm is sounding and I’m trying to start the car and it just keeps screaming its horn at me. BEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEP. I’m pretty sure it was getting louder and louder with each time I tripped the alarm. BEEEEEEEEEEP. I’m sure the neighbors were wondering what in the sam hill was going on at house #5844!!!!!!!!!! BEEEEEEEEEEP. 

I was beginning to have some apprehension about this matter.

Why was this happening? The car should be starting! 

It dawns on me.

My own car thinks I’m trying to steal her.

Out of protection, she wouldn’t turn on while the alarm was sounding.

SERIOUSLY?!?!?!?! THE KID that did this is going to HEAR IT!

Then I thought...oh wait. All I have to do is shut the door, put the key into the keyhole of the door and unlock it that way, then my car will know it has been unlocked appropriately and the alarm will go off and I’ll be able to start the car.

Why didn’t I think of this before the first 8 times the alarm went off?

I'm pretty embarrassed at this point so I hastily jump out of the car. I shut the door.  I put my key in the keyhole, but it wouldn’t go in. I try again and it won't stinking budge. What in the world? This is bizarre. I bent down to get a closer look of the keyhole. That’s when I found the stick. You know, the stick Wes was telling me about in that wild and fascinating story? 

It seems Wes had tried to “fix” the car by getting a stick and putting it into the keyhole to “break in” to the car to get the keys that he locked in there. As he turned the stick in the keyhole, the stick BROKE OFF into that tiny little space. My key was now blocked from unlocking the door and/or turning off the alarm. All the while, that dang alarm is still sounding. BEEEEEEEEEEP.

WES THE MESS. The name was prophetic.

Eventually, this whole ordeal was indeed solved. It took a lot of finagling and praying and scolding of, “Don’t ever do this again dude.” 

As I left the Bryan street, I think my car had her back end tucked between her tail pipes.  I have no dignity left on Easterling Drive, Bryan, Texas. 

My life with this kid is always an interesting adventure.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Divorce and the Land of Israel

(If you are here, the very first thing I want you to read is this: Writing about a divorce can be sticky. I would never want to hurt B in any way. So, please know this post is about the divorce, not about B.)     Rejection.   In the past, I’d had friends hurt my feelings. I was dumped in college. There were jobs I wasn’t offered. There were times I wasn’t invited. But that was pretty much it. The rejection I had felt in my life was, what I would consider, typical.   When I found out B had filed for divorce, I was devastated. Normal, right? I think so. I was intensely sad and cried every day. This too, did not surprise me. In fact, during those first few months, I didn’t fight it. When the sobbing began, I would stop what I was doing so I could heave it out until that episode was over. I also expected the standard emotions that sadness brings with it; disappointment, depression, grief. I wept through each of these and these sorrowful emotions became incr...
1 comment
Read more

My dad's words...when I came home pregnant.

As a child, each evening my dad would come into my room, prop up next to my bed to talk with me for a few minutes before telling me goodnight. The conversations would vary, but the ending was always the same.   Before getting up he would say, “If I lined up all the little girls in the whole wide world, I would pick you to be my daughter.” I loved hearing that as a little girl, so I would smile, give him a big hug and kiss and drift off to sleep. Every night was consistent. I never tired of hearing those words. As I grew older and no longer needed my parents to tuck me in, that sweet phrase would still come out every now and then. Even if I acted too cool to hear it, inside it affected me. I finished college at Texas ATM University and received my first job teaching Kindergarten in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. I moved in to my own apartment and began to get acquainted with my new city and new home.   Though no one was tucking me in at bedtime, with out fail I receiv...
6 comments
Read more

God, and our rental home.

I was still living in the home that once held our family of five.  Rooms were now completely empty, the living room bare and our bedroom was...well...void.  B and his kids had left. I would collapse at the smallest emotional trigger, a "train-wreck" as some people commonly refer to it. I shed tears daily, sometimes hourly. The failure of my marriage felt catastrophic.  Spiritual questions loomed in my mind. Could I hear the Lord? Where was he in all of this? Wasn't he here...somewhere? It didn't feel like it. And if he was, I certainly couldn't hear him. I'd been taking steps one-at-a-time for a couple months, but on one particular day, I was told I had to find a new place to live too. I was crushed. Taking the first steps were hard, but having to leave our home, this home we'd bought together, lived in together, made memories in together...the permanence of this step was overwhelming.  I could barely think straight.  In fact, all I really knew was that I ...
Post a Comment
Read more